


All That Is Gold Does Not Glitter

by ExperimentalMadness



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anthro!Arkenstone AU, Other, The Arkenstone is alive, This is what happens when you meta a little too hard, What if the Arkenstone was sentient
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 01:39:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExperimentalMadness/pseuds/ExperimentalMadness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Heart of the Mountain had spent long years sleeping undisturbed beneath the earth and rock. Many regard her as the greatest treasure ever to be uncovered. But she is more guardian than mere bauble, and she has been kept concealed and safe within the halls of Erebor and there she has ever remained. Content to watch over those she has adopted as her own kin, the Arkenstone has seen her kingdom thrive...and burn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Questions and Answers

**Author's Note:**

> This is a compendium of flash fiction pieces that detail an AU where there Arkenstone is a living, breathing individual and quite capable of speaking for herself. This idea began from a meta essay about, which explored the misconceptions of the Arkenstone as a monetary treasure. I argue that it's a cultural and personal one and sometimes it is easier for people to understand those concepts if the item in question can be thought of as a person with human worth. So...that's how this started. I hope you enjoy it. This idea ran away from me in all the best ways possible. Each piece is in chronological order, but they are short pieces that tell complete and individual stories all on their own. Enjoy!

"Why do you hide in the dark, Prince Under the Mountain? Are  you afraid of the light?"

The Arkenstone was standing around a clear underground spring. A golden glow lit the entire cavern. She was etching silver and copper into the wall. Patterns as fine as lacework knit across the expanse of rock. She turned her head to reveal clear crystal eyes.

"I did not wish to disturb you, my lady." Thorin answered stepping into the cave tentatively.

"Have you come to seek my counsel?"

"No, my lady. I was merely watching you at your work."

"Indeed?" The glow turned silver about her. "Come and I will show you what it is that occupies my time of late." She led him to the far wall. "It is, or will be, the history of this mountain. I have kept a record in my memory. See? Here it begins with your people coming to the mountain," she gestured to the figures wrought in gold and silver that she had delicately etched into the rock. "And here am I being woken." A figure spun from crystal, sapphire and emerald lay embedded into the stone, curled up like a babe asleep in the rock while a dwarf carved in silver swung an axe that released the figure from her bed. "The walls of this cavern will shine with the history of this kingdom. I hope it shall never be finished."

"This is a priceless gift, my lady," Thorin touched one of the carven figures.

"You woke me from my sleep and filled my halls with song and untold wonders. The gift is one you made yourselves. I am merely recording it."

Thorin paused over the image of the Arkenstone carved into the rock. “What was it like?” he asked quietly. “To be asleep for so long under the mountain? Were you ever lonely, my lady?”

The Arkenstone blinked down at her companion. Her eyes shifting to questioning sapphires and her skin moving from marble to bright agate. Thorin backed away. “Forgive me, that was impertinent.”

"No, it is only…why, no one has ever asked me such a question before. I suppose then…" she looked back at the image of herself she had carved. The silent and isolated being not yet woken to the life around her. "The earth and the rock sang to me while I slept, but there was no light, no thought nor joy in me. I was the mountain and all was silence. Then yes, young prince, I was alone. How odd indeed. I had not thought…"

"I will leave you to your work, my lady, I did not mean to disturb you so," Thorin bowed.

"Do stay, if you wish," The lady replied, her skin shifting to fine spinel. "I should very much like to tell someone of the times when this world was a far younger place. No one has asked but you."

"I would be honored," Thorin seemed surprised and humbled at the request.

"Then I should be pleased for the companionship. Sit, if you would," The Arkenstone abandoned her work and sat down upon the bank of the spring. Thorin followed suit and was again surprised at the enthusiasm of the lady. Perhaps his ancestors had been wrong in treating her like some elusive guardian. Perhaps she was becoming more like them with each passing age.

"There are stranger and more wondrous things hidden in the mountain than  you could imagine, young prince. Listen, and I will tell you of them…"


	2. Concealment

There were strangers lately come to her realm. And the Arkenstone could sense their unusual presence. They were beings not made for the underground. How fascinating indeed for she had never met a creature that had not belonged in her world.

She moved through the halls of the royal palace radiating a white light. Her skin for the moment was as clear as pure crystal and her eyes were round cut moonstones. She had a wish to present herself to these guests, surely creatures so strange and unusual to her own senses would have much to offer her in knowledge.

“Were not you asked to remain in the caverns below, Mizimelûh?” A young and jovial voice asked from behind her.

She turned about to find herself looking down at the youngest prince of Erebor. Frerin smiled at her. He was still but a boy only on the very cusp of manhood. The Arkenstone flashed an amused mix of green light as she returned the smile upon her carven face. “The king requested I do so, and I chose not to acquiesce.”

“Oh, he will not be pleased with you,” Frerin tsked falling into step alongside her.

“Your grandfather is a stubborn being indeed, but who do you believe taught him that?”

“Why, Mizimelûh! You are a wicked one.”

The Arkenstone’s crystal skin rippled and shifted into sapphire and then back again. She had known all the heirs to Erebor since they were babes in the cradle and she had given each her blessings as was tradition. Frerin was always so at ease with her. He had an artist’s heart and one day she knew his work would be famed throughout these realms. He had learned at her side as she showed him her carvings and craft.

“Now, tell me, who has come to my mountain?” the lady asked. “For I am most desirous to see them. They do not feel like any creature I have met before.”

“It is the Elvenking and his retinue from the woodland realms, my lady. It is not often they come, but still, there is homage to pay and treaties of peace to be renewed as ever. Grandfather does not think over fondly of them. He claims to have no patience for their arrogance. But I say he does not much care for how tall they are,” Frerin laughed before his face blanched a little. “My lady, I beg you not to repeat that.”

“Your secrets are safe with me, never fear.”

They walked on to the throne room and the pair lingered towards the far walls of the cavernous chamber. The Arkenstone was aglow with curiosity so she concealed herself behind one of the great archways laced and shining with silver. She matched her light to the those of the mineral veins and watched unnoticed and undisturbed.

The elves were creatures apart. Even with the distance between them she gauged that they were far taller than herself, yet they felt as rooted to the earth as she herself was. Frerin leaned over and whispered so his voice would not carry far. “They are leaving. It seems we missed the day’s excitement.”

The lady ducked back behind the pillar as the retinue of elves came near to the end of the chamber. One paused suddenly, his head tilting and his eyes questioning. He raised a hand to stop his companions. He seemed as if he would deign to go about the archway and seek out whatever had disturbed him, but he did no such thing. He stared hard at the space between the two pillars before taking his leave of the throne room. Frerin breathed out heavily at his departure. “Now that was a little too close for my liking—ah, brother, how did the pleasantries go?” He emerged from the archway waving to catch his elder brother’s attentions as he marched over the bridge leading up to the throne.

Thorin shot his younger brother a small smile that quickly faded as he saw who his companion was.

“What is the meaning of this?” King Thror stood from his throne at the approach of his youngest grandson. “You were ordered to remain in the lower caverns until I sent for you,” he gestured with pointed accusation at the Arkenstone.

The lady bristled iron as she tilted her head. “My king, you humbly made a request of me to stay below. It was a request I did not wish to follow. Why do you speak to me now in terms of demands and orders?”

“There was no harm done,” Frerin spoke up. “The lady wanted only to see the Elvenking.”

“Do not think that I do not believe you would have had a hand in this mischief, Frerin,” Thror turned his accusing glare towards the young dwarf. “Later we shall have words on that score.”

“There will be no words and no punishments of any kind,” the lady said.

“Do not presume to dictate to me!”

There was silence at the king’s shout. The Arkenstone’s gaze had widened as her eyes pooled to black jet stones. Her skin bristled to a darkening agate as the aura around her burned slowly to red. “Leave us,” her voice was the hammer on the anvil.

All who remained in the hall departed. Thorin grabbed his brother by the shoulder and urged him to follow him. The light that burned from the torches and the glow of the gold and silver veins in the rock seemed dimmed by shadow as the red glow pulsed about the Arkenstone. When all were gone save for her and the king her sculpted eyes narrowed. The air went thick and hot as the lady gave vent to her indignation. The king would not look at her.

“Look upon me, Thror son of Dáin. Well may you conceal your eyes in shame, but I would have them look upon my face.”

Thror slowly raised his eyes. The Arkenstone burned red, there was heat upon her words and in her gaze. The serenity she so usually exuded had been reduced to a glowing wrath. “I am not that of a lesser order that you may command me to do as you would. This is my mountain. These are my halls. The gifts I have given you and your kin are mine to give freely, not yours to conceal. Long have we known one another, Thror. Ever has your family held the chiefest place in my heart. Am I to be kept hoarded in chests of stone and iron and only removed when you wish to set your eyes upon me? I was not made for you alone and will not be kept like a bauble to be made an idol of. What fear is there that grows inside of you that has made you treat me thusly?”

The wrath dimmed and the darkness receded as the light of the fires and the gems returned. The Arkenstone’s eyes were still black jet stones, but her form had shifted to a softer rose spinel.

“Mizimelûh,” Thror said, “forgive me.”

“I do forgive you,” the lady said with lighter voice. Her clear hands went to his own. “but see that you do not forget the words that I have spoken this day.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note on the Khuzdul used in the chapter: Mizimelûh roughly translates into 'my jewel' or 'jewel of all jewels.'


	3. Surfacing

"My lady, you must at the very least try and control yourself."

A most unusual figure went dashing up the corridor. Clad in many layers of coats and cloaks several sizes too large for her frame, the figure underneath was nigh invisible. The sleeves of the garments went past her hands and she wore a thick cowl over her head. Yet still these served no purpose of disguise as light flickered out from the hood and sleeves. “Yes I know, but I cannot seem to help it.” The light flickered from gold to a more camouflaged gray, but sparks of white kept bursting around her. 

Thorin gripped her by the sleeve and kept her hidden against a pillar as a patrol of guardsmen filed past them down the opposite corridor. The Arkenstone laughed. It was not an earthly sound. Lights of every color danced around her in a brief halo while a sound like chimes rustling in a breeze echoed through the hall. Thorin pulled down on the cowl so that it muffled her voice and covered her completely. The lady's laughter redoubled and Thorin could see from the small space left open under the cowl lights of yellow, silver, and white flickering.

The guardsmen moved past and Thorin released the hood. “Do you realize the king would likely have my head for this?”

"This is all so very exciting," the lady replied in a thrilled whisper. "It is rather much like those stories I hear told to the little ones."

"This is hardly an adventure worth telling tales over." Thorin led her up a spiral of stairs.

The tower led up to an opening on the mountain side. It was a long climb, and Thorin had to pause to catch his breath again as he pushed aside the door leading to the outside.

The Arkenstone was as immaculate as ever. She tentatively stepped out into the night air. She pushed her hood down and her skin silvered to reflect the moonlight. “Oh,” she gave a great gasp as she drank in the sight of the world. “I thought that I had seen wonders under the earth, but nothing…nothing so rare as this.” She could see down the mountain side and past the lake to the woodland realms beyond.

"Thank you," she said turning to her companion. "Not once in all the ages of my life has anyone brought me to the surface. Come," she reached out a silver hand through the long cloak sleeves. "Come and tell me of the world. I have so many questions."

"I will do my best to answer them, my lady." Thorin took her hand and they walked over to the cliff ledge where they sat beside one another. 

The Arkenstone shimmered crystal as she asked her myriad of questions. She had gone as clear as glass and reflected the lights of the stars and the moon. She seemed enamored with the celestial bodies and in utter awe of how such clear gems could hang suspended in the sky. The prince hardly noticed the stars as he watched the lights dance across the Arkenstone’s form, even garbed as she was in rough spun clothes she outshone the sky.

He tore his gaze away momentarily and looked down only to see that the lady had kept her hand about his and where they met her skin had turned to pure gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thanks so much for the comments, the bookmarks, and the kudos! I'm so very pleased you are all enjoying these little tales and I greatly appreciate you taking the time to either comment upon my work or just reading it in general. :) I have many more left to go before this is completed. I do hope you'll all stick around.


	4. Conditions

A silver hand reached out and plucked one of the harp strings. It hummed through the air and she could feel it moving through her skin. She shimmered topaz in response and back to simple silver as she plucked the string again. Many colored lights flickered within her and around her. It was a single note, but it was one she had created and perhaps that was what made it sound so sweet.

Music was as much a mystery to the Arkenstone as life beyond the boundaries of Erebor. For all her many gifts and talents she possessed no natural affinity for the art, but she dearly love it all the same. 

“You will not get far playing only a single string, my lady.”

The Arkenstone smiled over at Thorin. “But it is one I know how to play.” She continued to idly strum the harp and a myriad of notes rang out in discord. “Although not well.” 

“May I, my lady?”

“Please do. Before I split the rock asunder with my atrocious skills.” 

Thorin was quick to stifle a laugh. He had never heard of the Arkenstone having such a sense of humor. When he had been no more than a boy he recalled seeing her walking with his grandfather. She was always bright, ethereal and immaculate. He had always known there was a kindness about her, but she was unknowable. Something sacred to give praise for, not a suitable companion for anything more than ceremony and counsel. Yet here she sat in his own chambers, strumming a harp and laughing and singing like some common dwarrowdame.

He moved behind her and covered her hands with his own. She was warm. The light within her gave off more than color, it reflected a heat and pulsed with life. If one got close, as close as he now was, one could feel the thrum of it radiating about her. It was nearly intoxicating. Pure life and light.

He arranged her fingers into a proper formation and was surprised at how she yielded to his instruction. He wondered vaguely if this was some form of quiet blasphemy, bending the Arkenstone to his will, no matter how insignificant. Yet the lady seemed not to mind and so he continued. 

“Pull the strings towards you,” he told her. “Keep your fingers light and move them like so,” he directed her hands back and a clear, crystal chord sang out from the instrument. 

“How marvelous. Do show me more.”

She was so very curious about everything that didn’t lie directly in her domain, he had learned that very quickly. After taking her to the surface he discovered she was an inquisitive being who had a fierce thirst for knowledge. She absorbed new skills as easily as she did light and craved more to fill her days. 

Thorin demonstrated a new chord for her to learn and she took to it with a will. She was a lonely being. He had always known that even when he had been a child. What else but loneliness compelled such a powerful figure to take a foreign and mortal culture as if it had always been her own? What other reason to preserve it and revere it and its people the way she did?

He had been taught to regard The Arkenstone as a creature apart. Something sacred and honored. Not for the first time in the past few months did Thorin think that he had been taught wrong.

“I do believe I shall be quite proficient before long. I should have asked to be taught centuries and centuries ago. How much time I’ve spent wishing I could create something as beautiful as this. Young prince, you continue to give me the most remarkable gifts.” 

“They are not gifts, my lady,” Thorin said. “Any friend would do no less.”

“A friend?” The lady turned to look at him. Her eyes were clear crystals in her carven face. Thorin found himself unable to tear his gaze away. “Long have I considered your family to be so, but none of your line has ever named me as such.”

There was no accusation in her voice, but there was hurt behind it. Could something such as she even feel as they did? Thorin became aware of how close he was to her, his arms half way around her sculpted from.

“Then let me be the first to call you friend,” he told her. “On one condition.”

The Arkenstone’s form shifted to sapphire. “And you would be so bold as to make me swear to conditions? Very well, young prince, I will hear you out. What is your condition?”

“That I be regarded as your friend as well.”

“A deal then.” A great change took hold of the lady’s form. Gold shimmered up her arms to overtake her entirely until she seemed sculpted of the pure mineral.

“Now let us return to the matter at hand. I believe I was finally learning how to master this instrument.” She turned back to the harp and positioned her hands as previously instructed.

Thorin felt the spell of the lady’s gaze break, so enamored had he become at the change in her. He very nearly did not know how to place himself. He covered the carven, golden hands with his own and took up the lesson once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thanks so much for all the kudos and bookmarks and comments. I love hearing from you. :)


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